“I should have told you,” she said. “But every time I tried, she was nearby. Or Chloe was. They kept saying you had enough to worry about.”
“Why did you believe them?”
Maya looked at me then, and for the first time since I had found her, I saw something sharper than fear in her eyes.
“Because you always believed them first.”
The words landed without force, but they struck deeper than any accusation shouted in anger.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Maya looked away.
“When we chose the apartment, your mother said I pushed you into spending too much. When I wanted Liam’s nursery painted green instead of blue, she said I was controlling. When I asked Chloe not to post pictures from my baby shower before I had shared them myself, Chloe cried, and you asked me to apologize.”
“I was trying to keep the peace.”
“You were keeping their peace.”
Outside the room, a cart rattled down the corridor. A nurse laughed softly at something a colleague said. Life continued at an ordinary pace while my understanding of my marriage quietly rearranged itself.
“I didn’t know it was this bad,” I said.
“No,” Maya replied. “You didn’t.”
She closed her eyes, exhausted.
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